


The Day

by Original_Cypher



Series: Teen Wolf drabbles (mostly gonna be Sterek) [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Original_Cypher/pseuds/Original_Cypher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are moments in a friendship when it shows more. When it shines through. Scott had always been there for Stiles. This Day was no exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Day

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hazgarn)[Hazgarn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hazgarn).

Today was Stiles' misery day. He lay on his stomach, arms flopped by his sides, his cheek mushed into the pillow. He had his head turned away from the window, mulishly refusing to acknowledge the beautiful late morning spring light. His eyes were closed, but he knew Scott was there, an arms' length away, probably staring. He was surely curled up on the beanbag chair, hugging one or both of his knees and making a perfect impression of a helpless, sad puppy. The sole mental image created tension at the corner of his lips, the sheer force of his love for his best friend stubbornly trying to break through, even today.

Today was Stiles' misery day. He'd picked it himself, at age fourteen. It never really felt like he had a choice. On the anniversary of his mom's death, he had to be strong for his father. He wouldn't let himself break, and mourn. He had to be a shoulder for his dad and keep the man going through the day, sometimes even the next. So Stiles had chosen today. The anniversary of the day his mom took him aside and explained what was happening. Again. In details. It had been the day he'd _understood_. He'd known 'mommy is sick' and 'mommy needs her rest'. That day, his infant, terrified mind had had to take in the notion 'mommy's dying'. It wasn't in the way flowers and trees died. It wasn't in the way 'people die' in the songs or on the news. It was concrete, violent, and imminent. His mother was dying in the 'one day there, next day gone', 'the only thing you have left is a gravestone and an old bottle of perfume' way.

“Stiles.” Scott's murmur sounded strikingly in the utter silence of the room. Aside from Stiles, only he knows what today is.

Stiles stirred, brought up a hand to scratch at the side of his nose. “M'not asleep.”

He may have imagined it, but he thought he heard his best friend swallow. “What can I do?”

“Nothing.” Belatedly, Stiles realized how it sounded and opened his eyes. He met Scott's and gave him the smile only his presence could help summon. “You're doing it.” Scott smiled back, and the relief he saw in the brown eyes made Stiles' chest hurt. He let his eyes drift close again. He wished he had the strength to say _'You also don't have to.'_ but he wasn't that big, he wasn't that strong. Scott knew him well enough to know both of those things, too.

He needed to move. Having his best friend willing to spend his entire day trying to provide any form of comfort they could think of was a luxury. But to benefit from it, he had to give Scott some room to work with.

Blindly, he threw his arm in a circular motion until it hit Scott's leg. Disregarding the wolf's snort, he felt around until he could lay his hand on Scott's knee. He let his arm hang limp between the two of them, creating a bridge between the bed and the chair. It was as much 'reaching out' as he could muster for now. Luckily, Scott was fluent in Stiles. The thought made the human smile as his best friend patted his hand. Scott's palm stayed casually afterward, its warmth strange and comforting at the same time.

Scott's voice came out as a mumble. He probably wasn't bothering to lift his head from where it rested on his free hand as he spoke, Stiles would have bet his precious Batman boxers on it. **"** You want me to tell you about my first kiss?"

Stiles groaned.

Scott patted his hand again and went on with a dreamy voice. “It was a Valentine's Day. Beautiful weather, for February, if you think about it..."

"Scotty..." Stiles whined, shifting to hide his face in the pillow.

“I mean, there was no better thing, you know? I think maybe the birds were singing? Maybe there were bells? There were probably bells.” Scott kept on, laughter starting to color his tone as he kept Stiles from yanking his arm away. “And there were promises of eternal belonging and-...” Scott yelped happily when Stiles gave up trying to pull free and chose to fling himself at his friend instead. “And I was nervous, you know-... I may have choked on a Tic Tac before that,...”

“-shut up, you fucker-...” Stiles finally pried his hand free and proceeded to swat away at Scott. They devolved into an affectionate tussle.

“.. ack-...”

“..- _quiet!_ ”

“...-and then-...” Scott sputtered when instead of covering his mouth, Stiles slipped and shoved half his fingers past his teeth. Scott fell over, taking Stiles down with him. The wound up in a pathetic heap, but Stiles was grinning.

Scott beamed up at Stiles from his position. The human had him pinned to the ground, which was obviously something the werewolf had let happen willingly. Scott took in the smile that was given to him. The one he didn't see often, but knew only existed for him, for now. The one that said 'thank you for existing'. Some days, he thought about a time that would likely come soon, when he'd have to share this smile with someone else. He didn't have any right to be jealous, but it didn't mean he wouldn't be. He smiled back to match it. "To this day, I still don't understand how you tasted like apples.”

Stiles shook his head and let it hung, huffing in laughter. The Sheriff poked his head in the room, investigating the ruckus. He barely seemed phased when he spotted them on the floor. “Hello, Scott.”

“Hey, Sheriff.”

The man eyed his son critically. “Y'alright?"

"Everything good." Stiles assured, and Scott didn't hear a lie. “Reliving old memories." He then proceeded to half climb, half fall off the rest of the way out of bed. Onto Scott.

“Ow. Hey, _careful!_ I heal, but if you knee me in the balls, it still _hurts_.”

The Sheriff took in a sharp breath, looked away and sighed. “I don't even wanna know.” He took a few steps back out, then called. “By the way, unless I was unclear before, werewolves _are_ allowed to use the front door in this house.”

Wiping his slobbery hand on Scott's shirt and ignoring the subsequent protests, Stiles let the sensation sink. He was going to make it through The Day.


End file.
